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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




EVA NG E L I N E 



A TALE OF ACADIE 



BY 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 



WITH NOTES 






3LG0 

NEW YORK: 46 East 14TH Street 

THOxMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 



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Copyright, 1S93 
By T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 



PRESS OF 

laocfstDEll anti (!i;f)urtl)Ul 

BOSTON 



EVANGELINE, 

A TALE OF ACADIE 

1847. 



EVANGELINE 



This is the forest primeval. The murmuring 
pines and the hemlocks, 

Bearded with moss, and in garaients green, indis- 
tinct in the twilight, 

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and 
prophetic. 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on 
their bosoms. 

Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced 
neighboring ocean 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 
wail of the forest. 



2 EVANGELINE, 

This is the forest primeval ; but where are the 
hearts that beneath it 

Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the wood- 
land the voice of the huntsman? 

Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of 
Acadian farmers, — 

Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water 
the woodlands. 

Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an 
image of heaven? 

Waste are those pleasant farms and the farmers 
forever departed ! 

Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty 
blasts of October 

Seize them', and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle 
them far o'er the ocean. 

Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful vil- 
lage of Grand-Pre. 



A TALE OF AC ABIE. 3 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and 

endures, and is patient, 
Ye who beheve in the beauty and strength of 

woman's devotion, 
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the 

pines of the forest ; 
List to a tale of love in Acadie, home of the 

happy. 



PART THE FIRST. 



PART THE FIRST. 



I. 

In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin 

of Minas, 
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand- 

Pr6 
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched 

to the eastward, 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks 

without number. 
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised 

with labor incessant. 
Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated sea- 
sons the flood-gates 
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will 

o'er the meadows. 



.8 EVANGELINE, 

West and south there were fields of flax, and 

orchards and cornfields 
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; and 

away to the northward 
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on 

the mountains 
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the 

mighty Atlantic 
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their 

station descended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the 

Acadian village. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of 

oak and of chestnut. 
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the 

reign of the Henries. 
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows ; 

and gables projecting 
Over the basement below protected and shaded 

the doorway. 



A TALE OF AC ABIE. 9 

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, wlien 
brightly the sunset 

Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes 
on the chimneys, 

Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps 
and in kirtles 

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spin- 
ning the golden 

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy 
shuttles within doors 

Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels 
and the songs of the maidens. 

Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, 
and the children 

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended 
to bless them. 

Reverend walked he among them ; and up rose 
matrons and maidens 

Hailing his slow approach with words of affec- 
tionate welcome. 



I O E VANGELINE, 

Then came the laborers home from the field, and 

serenely the sun sank 
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon 

from the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of 

the village 
Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense 

ascending, 
Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace 

and contentment. 
Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian 

farmers, — 
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were 

they free from 
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the 

vice of republics. 
Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to 

their windows ; 
But their dwellings were open as day and the 

hearts of the owners ; 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 11 

There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived 
in abundance. 



Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the 

Basin of Minas, 
Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of 

Grand-Pr6, 
Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, direct- 
ing his household, 
Gentle Evangehne lived, his child, and the pride 

of the village. 
Stalworth and stately in form was the man of 

seventy winters ; 
Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered 

with snow-flakes ; 
White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks 

as brown as the oak leaves. 
Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen 

summers. 



I 2 E VANGELINE, 

Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on 

the thorn by the wayside, 
Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the 

brown shade of her tresses ! 
Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that 

feed in the meadows. 
When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers 

at noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was 

the maiden. 
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the 

bell from its turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest 

with his hyssop 
Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings 

upon them, 
Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet 

of beads and her missal, 
Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, 

and the ear-rings. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 3 

Brought in the olden time from France, and since, 
as an heirloom, 

Handed down from mother to child, through long 
generations. 

But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal 
beauty — 

Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, 
after confession. 

Homeward serenely* she walked with God's bene- 
diction upon her. 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing 
of exquisite music. 



Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of 

the farmer 
Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; 

and a shady 
Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine 

wreathinof around it. 



14 EVANGELINE, 

Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; 

and a footpath 
Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in 

tlie meadow. 
Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by 

a penthouse. 
Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by 

the roadside, 
Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image 

of Mary. 
Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the 

well with its moss-grown 
Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough 

for the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms on the north, 

were the barns and the farmyard. 
There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the 

antique ploughs and the harrows ; 
There were the folds for the sheep; and there, 

in his feathered seraglio, 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 5 

Stmtted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, 

with the selfsame 
Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent 

Peter. 
Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a 

village. In each one 
Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; and 

a staircase, 
Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous 

corn-loft. 
There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and 

innocent inmates. 
Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the 

variant breezes 
Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang 

of mutation. 



Thus, at peace with God and the world, the 
farmer of Grand-Pre 



1 6 EVANGELINE, 

Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed 

his liouseliold. 
Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and 

opened his missal, 
Fixed his eyes upon her, as the saint of his deep- 
est devotion ; 
Happy was he who might touch her hand or the 

hem of her garment ! 
Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness 

befriended. 
And as he knocked and waited to hear the sound 

of her footsteps, 
Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the 

knocker of iron ; 
Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the 

village. 
Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance 

as he whispered 
Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the 

music. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 7 

But, among all who came, young Gabriel only 
was w^elcome ; 

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the black- 
smith, 

Who was a mighty man in the village, and hon- 
ored of all men ; 

For since the birth of time, throughout all ages 
and nations. 

Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by 
the people. 

Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from 
earliest childhood. 

Grew up together as brother and sister ; and 
Father Felician, 

Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had 
taught them their letters 

Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the 
church and the plain-song. 

But when the hymn was sung, and the daily les- 
son completed, 



1 8 EVANGELINE, 

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil 

the blacksmith. 
There at the door they stood, with wondering 

eyes to behold him 
Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as 

a plaything, 
Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the 

tire of the cart-wheel 
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle 

of cinders. 
Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gath- 
ering darkness, 
Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through 

every cranny and crevice, 
Warm by the forge within they watched the 

laboring bellows, 
And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired 

in the ashes. 
Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going 

into the chapel. 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 1 9 

Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop 

of the eagle, 
Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er 

the meadow. 
Oft in the barnS they dimbed to the populous nests 

on the rafters, 
Seeking wdth eager eyes that wondrous stone 

which the swallow 
Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the 

sight of its fledglings ; 
Lucky was -he who found that stone in the nest of 

the swallow ! 
Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer 

were children. 
He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face 

of the morning. 
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened 

thought into action. 
She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes 

of a woman. 



20 EVANGELINE, 

' ' Sunshine of Saint Eulalie " was she called ; for 
that was the sunshine 

Which, as the farmers believed, would load their 
orchards with apples ; 

She, too, would bring to her husband's house 
delight and abundance, 

Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of chil- 
dren. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 



II. 

Now had the season returned, when the nights 

grow colder and longer, 
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion 

enters. 
Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air 

from the ice-bound, 
Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical 

islands. 
Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the 

winds of September 
Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old 

with the angel. 
All the signs foretold a winter long and in- 
clement. 
Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had 

hoarded their honey 



22 EVANGELINE, 

Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters 
asserted 

Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur 
of the foxes. 

Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed 
that beautiful season, 

Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Sum- 
mer of All-Saints ! 

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical 
light ; and the landscape 

Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of 
childhood. 

Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the rest- 
less heart of the ocean 

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were 
in harmony blended. 

Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks 
in the farmyards, 

Whir of wings in the drowsy, air, and the cooing 
of pigeons, 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 23 

All were subdued and low as the murmurs of 

love, and the great sun 
Looked with the eye of love through the golden 

vapors around him ; 
While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet 

and yellow, 
Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering 

tree of the forest 
Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned 

with mantles and jewels. 



Now recommenced the reign of rest and affec- 
tion and stillness. 

Day with its burden and heat had departed, and 
twilight descending 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and 
the herds to the homestead 

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their 
necks on each other. 



24 E VANGELINE, 

And with their nostrils distended inhahng the 

freshness of evening. 
Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful 

heifer, 
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon 

that waved from her collar, 
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human 

affection. 
Then came the shepherd back with his bleating 

flocks from the seaside, 
Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them 

followed the watch-dog. 
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the 

pride of his instinct. 
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and 

superbly 
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the 

stragglers ; 
Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept ; 

their protector. 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 25 

When from the forest at night, through the starry 

silence, the wolves howled. 
Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains 

from the marshes, 
Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its 

odor. 
Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their 

manes and their fetlocks, 
While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and 

ponderous saddles. 
Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with 

tassels of crimson. 
Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy 

with blossoms. 
Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded 

their udders 
Unto the milkmaid's hand ; whilst loud and in 

regular cadence 
Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets 

descended. 



26 EVANGELINE, 

Lowing of cat'le and peals of laughter were heard 

in the farmyard, 
Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into 

stillness ; 
Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of 

the barn-doors, 
Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was 

silent. 



In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, 
idly the farmer 

Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames 
and the smoke-wreaths 

Struggled together like foes in a burning city. 
Behind him. 

Nodding and mocking along the wall with ges- 
tures fantastic. 

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away 
into darkness. 



A TALE OF AC AD IE. 2/ 

Fac2s, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his 
arm-chair, 

Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter 
plates on the dresser 

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies 
the sunshine. 

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols 
of Christmas, 

Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers 
before him 

Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Bur- 
gundian vineyards. 

Close at her father's side was the gentle Evange- 
line seated. 

Spinning flax for the loom that stood in the corner 
behind her. 

Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its dili- 
gent shuttle. 

While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the 
drone of a bagpipe, 



EVANGELINE, 

ins 
ments together. 

As in a church, when the chant of the choir at 
intervals ceases, 

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the 
priest at the altar, 

So, in each pause of the song, with measured mo- 
tion the clock clicked. 



Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, 
and, suddenly lifted. 

Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung 
back on its hinges. 

Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was 
Basil the blacksmith, 

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who 
was with him. 

*' Welcome P' the farmer exclaimed, as their foot- 
steps paused on the threshold, 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 29 

"Welcome, Basil, my friend! Come, take thy 

place on the settle 
Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty 

without thee ; 
Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the 

box of tobacco ; 
Never so much thyself art thou as when through 

the curling 
Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and 

jovial face gleams 
Round and red as the harvest moon through the 

mist of the marshes." 
Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil 

the blacksmith, 
Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the 

fireside : — 
*' Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest 

and thy ballad ! 
Ever in cheerfulest mood art thou, when others 

are filled with 



30 EVANGELINE, 

Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin be- 
fore them. 

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked 
up a horseshoe." 

Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evange- 
line brought him, 

And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he 
slowly continued : — 

" Four days now are passed since the English ships 
at their anchors 

Ride in the Gaspereau^s mouth, with their cannon 
pointed against us. 

What their design may be is unknown ; but all 
are commanded 

On the morrow to meet in the church, where his 
Majesty's mandate 

Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in 
the mean time 

Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the 
people.'' 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 31 

Then made answer the farmer : — " Perhaps some 

friendher purpose 
Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the 

harvests in England 
By the untimely rains or untimelier heat have 

been blighted, 
And from our bursting barns they would feed 

their cattle and children." 
"Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, 

warmly, the blacksmith, 
Shaking his head, as in doubt ; then, heaving a 

sigh, he continued : — 
" Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau S^jour, nor 

Port Royal. 
Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on 

its outskirts. 
Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of 

to-morrow. 
Arms have been taken from us, and warlike wea- 
pons of all kinds ; 



32 EVANGELINE, 

Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and 

the scythe of the mower." 
Then with a pleasant smile made answer the 

jovial farmer : — 
"Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our 

flocks and our cornfields, 
Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by 

the ocean, 
Than were our fathers in forts, besieged by the 

enemy's cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no 

shadow of sorrow 
Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the 

night of the contract. 
Built are the house and the barn. The merry 

lads of the village 
Strongly have built them and well ; and, breaking 

the glebe round about them, 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with 

food for a twelvemonth. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 33 

Ren6 Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers 

and inkhorn. 
Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy 

of our children? " 
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand 

in her lover's. 
Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her 

father had spoken. 
And as they died on his lips the worthy notary 

entered. 



34 EVANGELINE, 



III. 

Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the suif 

of the ocean, 
Bent but not broken, by age was the form of the 

notary public ; 
Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the 

maize, hung 
Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and 

glasses with horn bows 
Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom 

supernal. 
Father of twenty children was he, and more than 

a hundred 
Children's children rode on his knee, and heard 

his great watch tick. 
Four long years in the times of the war had he 

languished a captive, 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 35 

Suffering much in an old French fort as the 

friend of the Enghsh. 
Now, though warier grown, without all guile or 

suspicion. 
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, 

and childlike. 
He was beloved by all, and most of all by the 

children ; 
For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the 

forest. 
And of the goblin that came in the night to 

water the horses, 
And of the white L^tiche, the ghost of a child 

who unchristened 
Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the 

chambers of children ; 
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in 

the stable, 
And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up 

in a nutshell, 



36 EVANGELINE, 

And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved 

clover and horse-shoes, 
With whatsoever else was writ in the law of the 

village. 
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil 

the blacksmith, 
Knocked from his pipe the ashes; and slowly ex- 
tending his right hand, 
"Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast 

heard the talk in the village, 
And, perchance, canst tell, us some news of these 

ships and their errand.'' 
Then with modest demeanor made answer the 

notary public : — 
" Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am 

never the wiser ; 
And what their errand may be I know not better 

than others. 
Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil 

intention 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 37 

Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why 

then molest us? " 
"God's name!" shouted the hasty and somewhat 

irascible blacksmith ; 
*' Must we in all things look for the how, and the 

why, and the wherefore? 
Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of 

the strongest ! " 
But, without heeding his warmth, continued the 

notary public : — 
" Man is unjust, but God is just, and finally 

justice 
Triumphs ; and well I remember a story, that 

often consoled me. 
When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at 

Port Royal." 
This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved 

to repeat it 
When his neighbors complained that any injustice 

was done them. 



38 EVANGELINE, 

" Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer 
remember, 

Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Jus- 
tice 

Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in 
its left hand. 

And in its right a sword, as an emblem that jus- 
tice presided 

Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and 
homes of the people. 

Even the birds had built their nests in the scales 
of the balance. 

Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the 
sunshine above them. 

But in the course of time the laws of the land 
were cormpted ; 

Might took the place of right, and the weak were 
oppressed, and the mighty 

Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a 
nobleman^s palace 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 39 

That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long a 

suspicion 
Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the 

household. 
She, after form of trial condemned to die on the 

scaffold, 
Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue 

of justice. 
As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit 

ascended, 
Lo ! o'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts of 

the thunder 
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath 

from its left hand 
Down on the pavement below the clattering scales 

of the balance. 
And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a 

magpie. 
Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls 

was inwoven. '^ 



40 EVANGELINE, 

Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was 

ended, the blacksmith 
Stood like a man who fain would speak, but 

findeth no language ; 
All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his 

face, as the vapors 
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in 

the winter. 



Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the 

table, 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with 

home-brewed 
Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in 

the village of Grand-Pr6 ; 
While from his pocket the notary drew his papers 

and ink-horn. 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of 

the parties, 




"Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to 
their welfare." 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 4 1 

Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep 

and in cattle. 
Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well 

were completed, 
And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on 

the margin. 
Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on 

the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of 

silver ; 
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and 

the bridegroom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their 

welfare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed 

and departed. 
While in silence the others sat and mused by the 

fireside. 
Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of 

its corner. 



42 E VANGELINE, 

Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention 
the old men 

Laughed at each kicky hit, or unsuccessful ma- 
noeuvre, 

Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach 
was made in the king-row. 

Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a win- 
dow's embrasure. 

Sat the lovers, and whispered together, beholding 
the moon rise 

Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the 
meadows . 

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of 
heaven. 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the lorget-me-nots of 
the angels. 



Thus passed the evening away. Anon the bell 
from the belfry 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 43 

Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, 

and straightway 
Rose the guests and departed ; and silence reigned 

in the household. 
Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on 

the doorstep 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it 

with gladness. 
Carefully then were covered the embers that 

glowed on the hearth-stone, 
And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of 

the farmer. 
Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline 

followed. 
Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the 

darkness, 
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of 

the maiden. 
Silent she passed through the hall, and entered 

the door of her chamber. 



44 £ VANGELINE, 

Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of 

white, and its clothes-press 
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were 

carefully folded 
Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evange- 
line woven. 
This was the precious dower she would bring to 

her husband in marriage. 
Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her 

skill as a housewife. 
Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow 

and radiant moonlight 
Streamed through the windows, and lighted the 

room, till the heart of the maiden 
Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous 

tides of the ocean. 
Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as 

she stood with 
Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of 

her chamber ! 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 45 

Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of 
the orchard, 

Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of 
her lamp and her shadow. 

Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a 
feeling of sadness 

Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of 
clouds in the moonlight 

Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for 
a moment. 

And as she gazed from the window she saw se- 
renely the moon pass 

Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star 
follow her footsteps, 

As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wan- 
dered with Hajari 



46 EVANGELINE, 



IV. 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the 

village of Grand-Pre. 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin 

of Minas, 
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, 

were riding at anchor. 
Life had long been astir in the village, and 

clamorous labor 
Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden 

gates of the morning. 
Now from the country around, from the farms and 

the neighboring hamlets, 
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian 

peasants. 
Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from 

the young folk 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 47 

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the 

numerous meadows, 
Where no path could be seen but the track of 

wheels in the greensward. 
Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed 

on the higliway. 
Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor 

were silenced. 
Thronged were the streets with people ; and noisy 

groups at the house-doors 
Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped 

together. 
Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed 

and feasted ; 
For wdth this simple people, who lived like broth- 
ers together, 
All things were held in common, and what one had 

was another's. 
Yet under Benedict's roof hospitahty seemed more 

abundant : 



48 EVANGELINE, 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her 

father ; 
Bright was her face with smiles, and words of 

welcome and gladness 
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup 

as she gave it. 



Under the open sky, in the odorless air of the 

orchard, 
Bending with golden fruit, was spread the feast of 

betrothal. 
There in the shade of the porch were the priest 

and the notary seated ; 
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the 

blacksmith. 
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press 

and the beehives, 
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of 

hearts and of waistcoats. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 49 

Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played 
on his snow-white 

Hair as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face 
of the fiddler 

Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown 
from the embers. 

Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of 
his fiddle, 

Tons les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de 
Dunkerqiie, 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the 
music. 

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzy- 
ing dances 

Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the 
meadows ; 

Old folk and young together, and children min- 
gled among them. 

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Bene- 
dicfs daughter ! 



5 O E VANGELINE, 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the 
blacksmith ! 



So passed the morning away. And lo ! with a 
summons sonorous 

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the 
meadows a drum beat. 

Thronged ere long was the church with men. 
Without, in the churchyard, 

Waited the women. They stood by the graves, 
and hung on the headstones 

Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh 
from the forest. 

Then came the guard from the ships, and march- 
ing proudly among them 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dis- 
sonant clangor 

Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from 
ceiling and casement, — 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 5 1 

Echoed a moment only, and slowly the pond-jrous 

portal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will 

of the soldiers. 
Then up rose their commander, and spake from the 

steps of the altar, 
Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal 

commission. 
" You are convened this day,'' he said, " by his 

Majesty's orders. 
Clement and kind has he been ; but how you have 

answered his kindness. 
Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make 

and my temper 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must 

be grievous. 
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of 

our monarch ; 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and 

cattle of all kinds 



52 EVANGELINE, 

Forfeited be to the crown ; and that you yourselves 

from this province 
Be transported to other lands. God grant you 

may dwell there 
Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable 

people ! 
Prisoners now I declare you ; for such is his 

Majesty''s pleasure I " 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice 

of summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling 

of the hailstones 
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and 

shatters his windows, 
Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with 

thatch from the house-roofs. 
Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their 

inclosures ; 
So on the hearts of the people descended the 

words of the speaker. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 53 

Silent a moment they stood in speechless won- 
der, and then rose 
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and 

anger, 
And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed 

to the doorway. 
Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce 

imprecations 
Rang through the house of prayer; and high o'er 

the heads of the others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil 

the blacksmith. 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the 

billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; 

and wildly he shouted, — 
"Down with the tyrants of England! we never 

have sworn them allegiance ! 
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our 

homes and our harvests ! '' 



54 EVANGELINE, 

More he fain would have said, but the merciless 

hand of a soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down 

to the pavement. 



In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry 

contention, 
Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father 

Felician 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the 

steps of the altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he 

awed into silence 
All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to 

his people ; 
Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents 

measured and mournful 
Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly 

the clock strikes : 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 55 

"What is this that ye do, my children? what 

madness has seized you? 
Forty years of my Hfe have I labored among you, 

and taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one 

another ! 
Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and 

prayers and privations? 
Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love 

and forgiveness? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and 

would you profane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing 

with hatred? 
Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is 

gazing upon you ! 
See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and 

holy compassion ! 
Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' O 

Father, forgive them ! ' 



56 EVANGELINE, 

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the 

wicked assail us, 
Let us repeat it now, and say, ' O Father, forgive 

them ! ' " 
Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the 

hearts of his people 
Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded 

that passionate outbreak ; 
And they repeated his prayer, and said, " O 

Father, forgive them ! " 



Then came the evening service. The tapers 

gleamed from the altar. 
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and 

the people responded. 
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and 

the Ave Maria 
Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their 

souls, with devotion translated, 



A TALE OF AC ABIE 57 

Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending 
to heaven. 



Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings 
of ill, and on all sides 

Wandered, wailing, from house to house the 
women and children. 

Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with 
her right hand 

Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, 
that, descending, 

Lighted the village street with mysterious splen- 
dor, and roofed each 

Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and embla- 
zoned its windows. 

Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth 
on the table ; 

There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fra- 
grant with wild flowers ; 



58 EVANGELINE, 

There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese 

fresh brought from the dairy ; 
And at the head of the board the great arm-chair 

of the farmer. 
Thus did Evangehne wait at her father's door, as 

the sunset 
Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad 

ambrosial meadows. 
Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had 

fallen, 
And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celes- 
tial ascended, — 
Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, 

and patience ! 
Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into the 

village. 
Cheering with looks and words the disconsolate 

hearts of the women. 
As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps 

they departed. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 59 

Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet 
of their children. 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glim- 
mering vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet de- 
scending from Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus 
sounded. 



Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church 

Evangeline lingered. 
All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and 

the windows 
Stood she, and listened and looked, until, overcome 

by emotion, 
' ' Gabriel ! " cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; 

but no answer 
Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier 

grave of the living. 



60 E VANGELINEy 

Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless 

house of her father. 
Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board 

stood the supper untasted, 
Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with 

phantoms of terror. 
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of 

her chamber. 
In the dead of the night she heard the whispering 

rain fall 
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree 

by the window. 
Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of 

the echoing thunder 
Told her that God was in heaven, and governed 

the world he created ! 
Then she remembered the tale she had heard of 

the justice of heaven ; 
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully 

slumbered till morning. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 6l 



V. 

Four times the sun had risen and set ; and now 

on the fifth day 
Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of 

the farmhouse. 
Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful 

procession, 
Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the 

Acadian women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods 

to the seashore, 
Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on 

their dwellings, 
Ere they were shut from sight by the winding 

road and the woodland. 
Close at their sides their children ran, and urged 

on the oxen. 



62 E VANGELINE, 

While in their little hands they clasped some frag- 
ments of playthings. 



Thus to the Gaspereau^s mouth they hurried ; 

there on the sea-beach 
Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the 

peasants. 
All day long between the shore and the ships did 

the boats ply ; 
All day long the wains came laboring down from 

the village. 
Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to 

his setting, 
Echoing far o'er the fields came the roll of drums 

from the churchyard. 
Thither the women and children thronged. On 

a sudden the church-doors 
Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching 

in gloomy procession 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 63 

Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Aca- 
dian farmers. 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their 
homes and their country, 

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are 
weary and way-worn, 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants 
descended 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their 
wives and their daughters. 

Foremost the young men came ; and, raising 
together their voices. 

Sang they with tremulous lips a chant of the 
Catholic Missions : — 

"Sacred heart of the Saviour! O inexhaustible 
fountain ! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and sub- 
mission and patience ! " 

Then the old men, as they marched, and the 
women that stood by the wayside 



64 EVANGELINE, 

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the 

sunshine above them 
Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of 

spirits departed. 



Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited 

in silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour 

of affliction, — 
Calmly and sadly waited, until the procession 

approached her. 
And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with 

emotion. 
Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running 

to meet him. 
Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his 

shoulder, and whispered, — 
* ' Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! for if we love one 

another, 




Gabriel! be of cood cheer! 



A TALE OF ACADIE, 65 

Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mis- 
chances may happen ! " 
Smiling she spake these words ; then suddenly 

paused, for her father 
Saw she slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed 

was his aspect ! 
Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire 

from his eye, and his footstep 
Heavier seemed with the weight of the weary 

heart in his bosom. 
But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck 

and embraced him, 
Speaking words of endearment where words of 

comfort availed not. 
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that 

mournful procession. 



There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and 
stir of embarking. 



66 EVANGELINE, 

Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the con- 
fusion 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and moth- 
ers, too late, saw their children 

Left on the land, extending their arms, with 
wildest entreaties. 

So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel 
carried. 

While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood 
with her father. 

Half the task was not done when the sun went 
down, and the twilight 

Deepened and darkened around ; and in haste the 
refluent ocean 

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of 
the sand-beach 

Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the 
slippery seaweed. 

Farther back in the midst of the household goods 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 6/ 

Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a 

battle, 
All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels 

near them, 
Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian 

farmers. 
Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellow- 
ing ocean. 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, 

and leaving 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of 

the sailors. 
Then, as the night descended, the herds returned 

from their pastures ; 
Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of 

milk from their udders ; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known 

bars of the farmyard, — 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and 

the hand of the milkmaid. 



68 EVANGELINE, 

Silence reigned in the streets ; from the church 

no Angelus sounded, 
Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no 

lights from the windows. 



But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires 

had been kindled, 
Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from 

wrecks in the tempest. 
Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces 

were gathered. 
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and 

the crying of children, 
Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to 

hearth in his parish. 
Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and bless- 
ing and cheering. 
Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate 

seashore. 



A TALE- OF ACAD/E. 6g 

Thus he approached the place where Evangeline 

sat with her father, 

in the fl 

old man, 
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either 

thought or emotion, 
E'en as the face of a clock from which the 

hands have been taken. 
Vamly Evangeline strove wit4i words and caresses 

to cheer him. 
Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he 

looked not, he spake not, 
But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flick- 
ering firelight. 
"■ Benedicite!^'' murmured the priest, in tones of 

compassion. 
More he fain would have said, but his heart was 

full, and his accents 
Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a 

child on a threshold, 



70 E VANGELINE, 

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful 

presence of sorrow. 
Slhntly, therefore, he laid his hand on the head 

of the maiden, 
Raising his eyes, full of tears, to the silent stars 

that above them 
Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs 

and sorrows of mortals. 
Then sat he down • at her side, and they wept 

together in silence. 



Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in 

autumn the blood-red 
Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and 

o'er the horizon 
Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon 

mountain and meadow. 
Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling hug 2 

shadows together. 



A TALE OF AC AD IE. 



71 



Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs 

of the village, 
Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships 

that lay in the roadstead. 
Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of 

flame were 
Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like 

the quivering hands of a martyr. 
Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the 

burning thatch, and, uplifting, 
Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from 

a hundred house-tops 
Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame 

intermingled. 



These things beheld in dismay the crowd on th3 

shore and on shipboard. 
Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud 

in their anguish, 



72 E VANGELINE, 

" We shall behold no more our homes in the 

village of Grand Pr6 ! " 
Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in 

the farmyards, 
Thinking the day had dawned ; and anon the 

lowing of cattle 
Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of 

dogs interrupted. 
Then rose a sound of' dread, such as startles the 

sleeping encampments 
Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt 

the Nebraska, 
When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with 

the speed of the whirlwind. 
Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to 

the river. 
Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the 

herds and the horses 
Broke through their folds and fences, and madly 

rushed o^er the meadows. 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 73 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the 

priest and the maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and 

widened before them ; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their 

silent companion, 
Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched 

abroad on the seashore 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had 

departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and 

the maiden 
Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her 

terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head 

on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious 

slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a 

multitude near her, 



74 EVANGELINE, 

Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully 
gazing upon her, 

Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest 
compassion. 

Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the 
landscape, 

Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the 
faces around her. 

And like the day of doom it seemed to her waver- 
ing senses. 

Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the 
people, — 

" Let us bury him here by the sea. When a hap- 
pier season 

Brings us again to our homes from the unknown 
land of our exile, 

Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the 
churchyard." 

Such were the words of the priest. And there in 
haste by the seaside. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 75 

Having the glare of the burning village for funeral 

torches, 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer 

of Grand Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the service 

of sorrow, 
Lo ! with a mournful sound, like the voice of a 

vast congregation. 
Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar 

with the dirges. 
'T was the returning tide, that afar from the waste 

of the ocean, 
With the first dawn of the day came heaving and 

hurrying landward. 
Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of 

embarking ; 
And with the ebb of that tide the ships sailed out 

of the harbor. 
Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and 

the village in ruins. 



PART THE SECOND 



PART THE SECOND. 



I. 

Many a weary year had passed since the burning 

of Grand-Pr6, 
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels 

departed, 
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into 

exile, 
Exile without an end, and without an example in 

story. 
Far asundar, on separate coasts, the Acadians 

landed ; 
Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the 

wind from the north-east 
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the 

Banks of Newfoundland. 



80 E VANGELINE, 

Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from 

city to city, 
From the cold lakes of the North to sultry 

Southern savannas, — 
From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands 

where the Father of Waters 
Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down 

to the ocean, 
Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of 

the mammoth. 
Friends they sought and homes ; and many, de- 
spairing, heart-broken, 
Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a 

friend nor a fireside. 
Written their history stands on tablets of stone in 

the churchyards. 
Long among them was seen a maiden who waited 

and wandered, 
Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering 

all thinsfs. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 8 1 

Fair was she and young ; but, alas ! before her 

extended, 
Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with 

its pathway 
Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed 

and suffered before her. 
Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead 

and abandoned. 
As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is 

marked by 
Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach 

in the sunshine. 
Something there was in her Hfe incomplete, imper- 
fect, unfinished ; 
As if a morning of June, with all its music and 

sunshine. 
Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly 

descended 
Into the east again, from whence it late had 

arisen. 



82 EVANGELINE, 

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the 
fever within her, 

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst 
of the spirit, 

She would commence again her endless search and 
endeavor ; 

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the 
crosses and tombstones. 

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that per- 
haps in its bosom 

He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber 
beside him. 

Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate 
whisper, 

Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her 
forward. 

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her 
beloved and known him. 

But it was long ago, in some far-off place or for- 
gotten. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 83 

"Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " said they; "O yes! we 

have seen him. 
He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have 

gone to the prairies ; 
Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters and 

trappers." .. ,. 

"Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " said others; "O yes ! we 

have seen him. 
He is a Voyageiir in the lowlands of Louisi- 
ana." 
Then would they say, — ' ' Dear child ! why dream 

and wait for him longer? 
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? 

others 
Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits 

as loyal ? 
Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who 

has loved thee 
Many a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand 

and be happy ! 



84 EVANGELINE, 

Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Cath- 
erine's tresses.". 

Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but 
sadly, — "I can not ! 

Whither my heart has gone, there follows my 
hand, and not elsewhere. 

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and 
illumines the pathway, 

Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden 
in darkness." 

And thereupon the priest, her friend and father- 
confessor. 

Said, with a smile, — "O daughter! thy God 
thus speaketh within thee ! 

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was 
wasted ; 

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, 
returning 

Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill 
them full of refreshment ; 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 85 

That which the fountain sends forth returns again 

to the fountain. 
Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy 

work of affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endur- 
ance is godlike. 
Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the 

heart is made godlike, 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered 

more worthy of heaven ! " 
Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline 

labored and waited. 
Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of 

the ocean. 
But with its sound there was mingled a voice 

that whispered, " Despair not ! " 
Thus did that poor soul wander in want and 

cheerless discomfort. 
Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns 

of existence. 



86 EVANGELINE, 

Let me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wanderer's 

footsteps ; — 
Not through each devious path, each changeful 

year of existence ; 
But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course 

through the valley : 
Far from its margin at times, and seeing the 

gleam of its water 
Here and there, in some open space, and at 

intervals only ; 
Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan 

glooms that conceal it, 
Though he behold it not, he can hear its contin- 
uous murmur ; 
Happy, at length, if he find the spot where 

it reaches an outlet. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 8/ 



II. 

It was the month of May. Far down the Beauti- 
ful River, 
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the 

Wabash, 
Into the golden stream of the broad and swift 

Mississippi, 
Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by 

Acadian boatmen. 
It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from 

the shipwrecked 
Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating 

together. 
Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a 

common misfortune ; 
Men and women and children, who, guided by 

hope or by hearsay. 



88 EVANGELINE, 

Sought for their kith and their kin among the 

few-acred farmers 
On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair 

Opelousas. 
Witli them Evangeline went, and her guide, the 

Father P'elician. 
Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness 

sombre with forests. 
Day after day they glided adown the turbulent 

river ; 
Night after night, by their blazing fires, en- 
camped on its borders. 
Now through rushing chutes, among green 

islands, where plumelike 
Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they 

swept with th? current. 
Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery 

sand-bars 
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves 

of their margin, 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 89 

Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of 

pelicans waded. 
Level the landscape grew, and along the shores 

of the river. 
Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant 

gardens, 
Stood the houses of planters, with negro-cabins 

and dove-cots. 
They were approaching the region where reigns 

perpetual summer. 
Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of 

orange and citron. 
Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to 

the eastward. 
They, too, swerved from their course ; and, enter- 
ing the Bayou of Plaquemine, 
Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious 

waters, 
Which, like a network of steel, extended in 

every direction. 



90 E VANGELINE, 

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous 

boughs of the cypress 
Met in a dusky arch, and traihng mosses in mid- 
air 
Waved hke banners that hang on the walls of 

ancient cathedrals. 
Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, 

save by the herons 
Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning 

at sunset, 
Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with 

demoniac laughter. 
Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and 

gleamed on the water. 
Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar 

sustaining the arches, 
Down through whose broken vaults it fell as 

through chinks in a ruin. 
Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all 

things around them ; 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 9 1 

And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of won- 
der and sadness, — 

Strange forebodings of ill, unseen afid that cannot 
be compassed. 

As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf 
of the prairies, 

Far in advance are closed the leaves of the 
shrinking mimosa. 

So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings 
of evil, 

Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of 
doom has attained it. 

But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, 
that faintly 

Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on 
through the moonlight. 

It was the thought of her brain that assumed the 
shape of a phantom. 

Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wan- 
dered before her, 



92 EVANGELINE, 

And every stroke of the oar now brought him 
nearer and nearer. 

Then, in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose 
one of the oarsmen, 

And, as a signal sound, if others like them perad- 
venture 

Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, 
blew a blast on his bugle. 

Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors 
leafy the blast rang. 

Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues 
to the forest. 

Soundless above them the banners of moss just 
stirred to the music. 

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the dis- 
tance. 

Over the watery floor, and beneath the rever- 
berant branches ; 



A TALE OF ACAD IE. 93 

But not a voice replied ; no answer came from tlie 

darkness ; 
And wlien tlie echoes had ceased, like a sense 

of pain was the silence. 
Then Evangeline slept ; but the boatman rowed 

through the midnight, 
Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian 

boat-songs. 
Such as they sang of old ^ on their own Acadian 

rivers. 
And through the night were heard the mysterious 

sounds of the desert. 
Far off, indistinct, as of wave or wind in the 

forest, 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar 

of the grim alligator. 



Thus ere another noon they emerged from those 
shades; and before them 



94 EVANGELINE, 

Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atcha- 
falaya. 

Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undu- 
lations 

Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in 
beauty, the lotus 

Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the 
boatmen. 

Faint was the air with the odorous breath of mag- 
nolia blossoms, 

And with the heat of noon ; and numberless 
sylvan islands. 

Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming 
hedges of roses, 

Near to whose shores they glided along, invited 
to slumber. 

Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars 
w^ere suspended. 

Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew 
by the margin, 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 95 

Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered 
about on the greensward, 

Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travel- 
lers slumbered. 

Over them vast and high extended the cope of a 
cedar. 

Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower 
and the grape-vine 

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of 
Jacob, 

On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, 
descending. 

Were the swift humming-birds that flitted from 
blossom to blossom. 

Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slum- 
bered beneath it. 

Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of 
an opening heaven 

Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions 
celestial. 



96 EVANGELINE, 

Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless 

islands, 
Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the 

water. 
Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters 

and trappers. 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the 

bison and beaver. 
At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thought- 
ful and careworn. 
Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, 

and a sadness 
Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly 

written. 
Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy 

and restless. 
Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and 

of sorrow. 
Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of 

the island, 



A TALE OF ACADIE, 97 

But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of 
palmettos, 

So that they saw not the boat, where it lay con- 
cealed in the willows, 

And undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and 
unseen, were the sleepers ; 

Angel of God was there none to awaken the slum- 
bering maiden. 

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud 
on the prairie. 

After the sound of their oars on the tholes had 
died in the distance, 

As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the 
maiden 

Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, — " O Father 
Felician ! 

Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel 
wanders. 

Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague super- 
stition? 



98 EVANGELINE, 

Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to 

my spirit ? " 
Then, with a blush, she added, — "Alas for my 

credulous fancy ! 
Unto ears like thine such words as these have no 

meaning." 
But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled 

as he answered, — 
"Daughter, thy words are not idle; nor are they 

to me without meaning. 
Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that floats 

on the surface 
Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the 

anchor is hidden. 
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world 

calls illusions. 
Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far away to the 

southward. 
On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. 

Maur and St. Martin. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 99 

There the long-wandering bride shall be given 
again to her bridegroom, 

There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and 
his sheepfold. 

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests 
of fruit-trees ; 

Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the blu- 
est of heavens 

Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls 
of the forest. 

They who dwell there have named it the Eden of 
Louisiana." 



And with these words of cheer they arose and 

continued their journey. 
Softly the evening came. The sun from the 

western horizon 
Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er 

the landscape ; 



100 EVANGELINE, 

Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and 
forest 

Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and 
mingled together. 

Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of 
silver. 

Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the 
motionless water. 

Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible 
sweetness. 

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains 
of feeling 

Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and 
waters around her. 

Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking- 
bird, wildest of singers, 

Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er 
the water. 

Shook from his little throat such floods of deliri- 
ous music, 



A TALE OF ACAD IE. lOI 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves 

seemed silent to listen. 
Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then 

soaring to madness 
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of fren- 
zied Bacchantes. 
Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low 

lamentation ; 
Till, having gathered them all, he flung them 

abroad in derision, 
As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through 

the tree-tops 
Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower 

on the branches. 
With such a prelude as this, and hearts that 

throbbed with emotion. 
Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows 

though the green Opelousas, 
And through the amber air, above the crest of 

the woodland, 



I02 EVANGELINE, 

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neigh- 
boring dwelling ; — 

Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant low- 
ing of cattle. 



A TALE OF AC ABIE. . 103 



III. 

Near to the bank of the river, overshadowed by 
oaks, from whose branches 

Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
flaunted. 

Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets 
at Yule-tide, 

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herds- 
man. A garden 

Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant 
blossoms, 

Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself 
was of timbers 

Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted 
together. 

Large and low was the roof; and on slender col- 
umns supported, 



104 ^ ^^^^ NGELINE, 

Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spa- 
cious veranda, 
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended 

around it. 
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the 

garden, 
Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual 

symbol. 
Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions 

of rivals. 
Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow 

and sunshine 
Ran near the tops of the trees ; but the house 

itself was in shadow. 
And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly 

expanding 
Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke 

rose. 
In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, 

ran a pathway 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 1 05 

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of 

the hmitless prairie, 
Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly 

descending. 
Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy 

canvas 
Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless 

calm in the tropics, 
Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of 

grape-vines. 



Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf 

of the prairie, 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and 

stirrups. 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of 

deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under 

the Spanish sombrero 



I06 EVANGELINE, 

Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look 

of its master. 
Round about him were numberless herds of kine, 

that were grazing 
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory 

freshness 
That uprose from the river, and spread itself over 

the landscape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and 

expanding 
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that 

resounded 
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp 

air of the evening. 
Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of 

the cattle 
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents 

of ocean. 
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed 

o'er the prairie, 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 10/ 

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the 

distance. 
Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through 

the gate of the garden 
Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden 

advancing to meet him. 
Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amaze- 
ment, and forward 
Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of 

wonder ; 
When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil 

the Blacksmith. 
Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to 

the garden. 
There in an arbor of roses with endless question 

and answer 
Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their 

friendly embraces, 
Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent 

and thoughtful. 



I08 EVANGELINE, 

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark 

doubts and misgivings 
Stole o'er the maiden's heart ; and Basil, somewhat 

embarrassed, 
Broke the silence and said, — " If you came by the 

Atchafalaya, 
How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's 

boat on the bayous ? *' 
Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a 

shade passed, 
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a 

tremulous accent,— 
"Gone? is Gabriel gone?" and, concealing her 

face on his shoulder. 
All her overburdened heart gave way, and she wept 

and lamented. 
Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew 

blithe as he said it, — 
"Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he 

departed. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 109 

Foolish boy ! he has left me alone with my herds 
and my horses. 

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, 
his spirit 

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet ex- 
istence. 

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful 
ever, 

Evar silent, or speaking only of thee and his trou- 
bles, 

He at length had become so tedious to men and to 
maidens, 

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, 
and sent him 

Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with 
the Spaniards. 

Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the 
Ozark Mountains, 

Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping 
the beaver. 



no E VANGELINE, 

Therefore be of good cheer ; we will follow the 

fugitive lover ; 
He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the 

streams are against him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew 

of the morning 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his 

prison." 



Then glad voices were heard, and up from the 

banks of the river, 
Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael 

the fiddler. 
Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god on 

Olympus, 
Having no other care than dispensing music to 

mortals. 
Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his 

fiddle. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. \\\ 

"Long live Michael," they cried, "our brave Aca- 
dian minstrel ! " 

As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; 
and straightway 

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greet- 
ing the old man 

Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, 
enraptured. 

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and 
gossips. 

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers 
and daughters. 

Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the ci- 
devant blacksmith, 

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal 
demeanor ; 

Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil 
and the climate, 

And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were 
his who would take them : 



112 EVANGELINE, 

Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would 

go and do likewise. 
Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the 

airy veranda. 
Entered the hall of the house, where already the 

supper of Basil 
Waited his late return ; and they rested and 

feasted together. 



Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness de- 
scended. 

All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape 
with silver, 

Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars ; but 
within doors. 

Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in 
the glimmering lamplight. 

Then from his station aloft, at the head of the 
table, the herdsman 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. I 13 

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in 
endless profusion. 

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Nat- 
chitoches tobacco, 

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and 
smiled as they hstened : — 

*' Welcome once more, my friends, who so long 
have been friendless and homeless. 

Welcome once more to a home, that is better per- 
chance than the old one ! 

Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the 
rivers ; 

Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the 
farmer. 

Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil as 
a keel through the water. 

All the year round the orange-groves are in blos- 
som ; and grass grows 

More in a single night than a whole Canadian 
summer. 



114 E VANGELINE, 

Here, too, numberless herds nin wild and un- 
claimed in the prairies ; 
Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and 

forests of timber 
With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed 

into houses. 
After your houses are built, and your fields are 

yellow with harvests, 
No King George of England shall drive you away 

from your homesteads. 
Burning your dwellings and barns, and steahng 

your farms and your cattle.'" 
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud 

from his nostrils. 
And his huge, brawny hand came thundering down 

on the table. 
So that the guests all started ; and Father Feli- 

cian, astounded, 
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way 

to his nostrils. 




Tliey gave themselves to the mackleiiing whirl 
of tlie dizzv dance." 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. I15 

But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were 

milder and gayer : — 
" Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of 

the fever ! 
For it is not like that of our cold Acadian cli- 
mate, 
Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck 

in a nutshell ! '' 
Then there were voices heard at the door, and 

footsteps approaching 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy 

veranda. 

as the n( 

planters, 
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil 

the Herdsman. 
Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and 

neighbors : 
Friend clasped friend in his arms ; and they who 

before were as strangers, 



Il6 EVANGELINE, 

Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to 

each other, 
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country 

together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, pro- 
ceeding 
From the accordant strings of MichaePs melodious 

fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children 

delighted, 
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves 

to the maddening 
Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed 

to the music, 
Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of 

fluttering garments. 



Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the 
priest and the herdsman 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 17 

Sat, conversing together of past and present and 
future ; 

While Evangehne stood like one entranced, for 
within her 

Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of 
the music 

Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepress- 
ible sadness 

Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth 
into the garden. 

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall 
of the forest. 

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. 
On the river 

Fell here and there through the branches a tremu- 
lous gleam of the moonlight, 

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and 
devious spirit. 

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers 
of the garden 



I I 8 E VANGELINE, 

Poured out their souls in odors, that were their 
prayers and confessions 

Unto the night, as it went its way, Hkj a silent 
Carthusian. 

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with 
shadows and night-dews, 

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and 
the magical moonlight 

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable long- 
ings, 

As, through the garden gate, beneath the brown 
shade of the oak-trees, 

Passed she along the path to the edge of the 
measureless prairie. 

Silent it lay with a silvery haze upon it, and fire- 
flies 

Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infi- 
nite numbers. 

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in 
the heavens, 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 119 

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to 

marvel and worship, 
Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls 

of that temple, 
As if a hand had appeared and written upon 

them, " Upharsin." 
And the soul of the maiden, between the stars 

and the fire-flies. 
Wandered alone, and she cried, — "O Gabriel! 

O my beloved ! 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot be- 
hold thee? 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does 

not reach me ? • 

Ah ! how oftan thy feet have trod this path to the 

prairie ! 
Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the 

woodlands around me ! 
Ah ! how often beneath this oak, returning from 

labor, 



I20 EVANGELINE, 

Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me 

in thy slumbers ! 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be 

folded about thee ? " 
Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoor- 

will sounded 
Like a flute in the woods ; and anon, through the 

neighboring thickets, 
Farther and farther away it floated and dropped 

into silence. 
"Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular 

caverns of darkness ; 
And, from the moonht meadow, a sigh responded, 

' ' To-morrow ! " 



Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the flowers 
of the garden 
Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and 
anointed his tresses 



A TALE OF A CAD IE, 121 

With the delicious bahii that they bore in their 

vases of crystal. 
"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the 

shadowy threshold ; 
" See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his 

fasting and famine, 
And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the 

bridegroom was coming." 
"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, 

with Basil descended 
Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen 

already were waiting. 
Thus beginning their journey with morning, and 

sunshine, and gladness, 
Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was 

speeding before them. 
Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over 

the desert. 
Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that 

succeeded. 



122 EVANGELINE, 

Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest 

or river, 
Nor, after many days, had they found him ; but 

vague and uncertain 
Rumors alone were their guides through a wild 

and desolate country ; 
Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of 

Adayes, 
Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from 

the garrulous landlord, 
That on the day before, with horses and guides 

and companions, 
Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the 

prairies. 



A TALE OF AC AD IE. 1 23 



IV. 

Far in the West there lies a desert land, where 
the mountains 

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and 
luminous summits. 

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the 
gorge, like a gateway, 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emi- 
grant's wagon. 

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and 
Owyhee. 

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind- 
river Mountains, 

Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps 
the Nebraska ; 

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the 
Spanish Sierras, 



124 EVANGELINE, 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the 
wind of the desert, 

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend 
to the ocean. 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and 
solemn vibrations. 

Spreading between these streams are the won- 
drous, beautiful prairies. 

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and 
sunshine. 

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple 
amorphas. 

Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk 
and the roebuck ; 

Over them wander the wolves, and herds of rider- 
less horses ; 

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are 
weary with travel ; 

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ish- 
maePs children, 



A TALE OF AC ABIE. 1 25 

Staining the desert with blood ; and above thair 

cerrible war-trails 
Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the 

vulture, 
Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaugh- 
tered in battle, 
By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the 

heavens. 
Here and there rise smokes from the camps of 

these savage marauders ; 
Here and there rise groves from the margins of 

swift-running rivers ; 
And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk 

of the desert. 
Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by 

the brook-side. 
And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline 

heaven. 
Like the protecting hand of God inverted above 

them. 



126 EVANGELINE, 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the 

Ozark Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers 

behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the 

maiden and Basil 
Followed his flying steps, and thought eacli day to 

overtake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the 

smoke of his camp-fire 
Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; but 

at nightfall. 
When they had reached the place, they found only 

embers and ashes. 
And, though their hearts were sad at times and 

their bodies were weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fate 

M organa 
Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated 

and vanished before them. 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 



127 



Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there 

silently entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose 

features 
Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great 

as her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her 

people, 
From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel 

Camanches, 
Where her Canadian husband, a Coureur-des-Bois, 

had been murdered. 
Touched were their hearts at her story, and warm- 
est and friendliest welcome 
Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and 

feasted among them 
On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on 

the embers. 
But when their meal was done, and Basil and all 

his companions, 



128 EVANGELINE, 

Worn with the long day's march and the chase of 

the deer and the bison, 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept 

where the quivering firelight 
Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms 

wrapped up in their blankets, 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and 

repeated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her 

Indian accent, 
All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and 

pains, and reverses. 
Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know 

that another 
Hapless heart like her own had loved and had 

been disappointed. 
Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and 

woman's compassion. 
Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suf- 
fered was near her. 



A TALE OF ACADTE. 129 

She in turn related her love and all its disas- 
ters. 
Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when 

she had ended 
Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious 

horror 
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated 

the tale of the Mowis ; 
Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and 

wedded a maiden. 
But, when the morning came, arose and passed 

from the wigwam. 
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the 

sunshine, 
Till she beheld him no more, though she followed 

far into the forest. 
Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like 

a weird incantation. 
Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was 

woo2d by a phantom. 



I30 EVANGELINE, 

That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in 

the hush of the twihght. 
Breathed Uke the evening wind, and whispered 

love to the maiden. 
Till she followed his green and waving plume 

through the forest, 
And never more returned, nor was seen again by 

her people. 
Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evange- 
line listened 
To the soft flow of her magical words, till the 

region around her 
Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy 

guest the enchantress. 
Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains ths 

moon rose. 
Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious 

splendor 
Touching the sombre leaves, and embracing and 

filling: the woodland. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 131 

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and 
the branches 

Swayed and sighed overnead in scarcely audible 
whispers. 

Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's 
heart, but a secret. 

Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite ter- 
ror, 

As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest 
of the swallow. 

It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region 
of spirits 

Seemed to float in the air of night ; and she felt 
for a moment 

That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursu- 
ing a phantom. 

And with this thought she slept, and the fear and 
the phantom had vanished. 



132 EVANGELINE, 

Early upon the morrow the march was resumed ; 
and the Shawnee 

Said, as they journeyed along, — "On the west- 
ern slope of these mountains 

Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief 
of the Mission. 

Much he teaches the people, and tells them of 
Mary and Jesus ; 

Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with 
pain, as they hear him." 

Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evan- 
geline answered, — 

"Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings 
await us ! " 

Thither they turned their steeds ; and behind a 
spur of the mountains. 

Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur 
of voices. 

And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank 
of a river, 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. I 33 

Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the 

Jesuit Mission. 
Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of 

the village, 
Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A 

crucifix fastened 
High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed 

by grape-vines. 
Looked with its agonized face on the multitude 

kneeling beneath it. 
This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the 

intricate arches 
Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their ves- 
pers, 

^ling 

of the branches. 
Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer 

approaching. 
Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the 

eveninff devotions. 



134 ^ VANGELINE, 

But when the serv^ice was done, and the benedic- 
tion had fallen 

Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from 
the hands of the sower, 

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the stran- 
gers, and bade them 

Welcome ; and when they replied, he smiled with 
benignant expression. 

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue 
in the forest, 

And with words of kindness conducted them into 
his wigwam. 

There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on 
cakes of the maize-ear 

Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water- 
gourd of the teacher. 

Soon was their story told ; and the priest with 
solemnity answered : — 

"Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, 
seated 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 35 

On this mat by my side, where now the maiden 

reposes, 
Told me this same sad tale ; then arose and con- 
tinued his journey ! " 
Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake 

with an accent of kindness ; 
But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in 

winter the snow-flakes 
P^all into some lone nest from which the birds 

have departed. 
"Far to the north he has gone," continued the 

priest; "but in autumn, 
When the chase is done, will return again to the 

Mission." 
Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek 

and submissive, — 
"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad 

and afflicted." 
So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and betimes 

on the morrow, 



136 EVANGELINE, 

Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian 

guides and companions, 
Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed 

at the Mission. 



Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each 

other, — 
Days and weeks and months ; and the "fields of 

maize that were springing 
Green from the ground when a stranger she came, 

now waving above her. 
Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, 

and forming 
Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pil- 
laged by squirrels. 
Then in the golden weather the maize was 

husked, and the maidens 
Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened 

a lover. 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 137 

But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief 

in the corn-field. 
Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not 

her lover. 
"Patience!'' the priest would say; "have faith, 

and thy prayer will be answered ! 
Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head from 

the meadow, 
See how its leaves all point to the north, as true 

as the magnet ; 
It is the compass-flower, that the finger of God 

has suspended 
Here on its fragile stalk, to direct the traveller's 

journey 
Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the 

desert. 
Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of 

passion, 
Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller 

of fragrance, 



138 EVANGELINE, 

But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their 

odor is deadly. 
Only this humble plant can guide us here, and 

hereafter 
Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with 

the dews of nepenthe.'' 



So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter, 
— yet Gabriel came not ; 

Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of 
the robin and blue-bird 

Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Ga- 
briel came not. 

But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor 
was wafted 

Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of 
blossom. 

Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan 
forests. 



A TALE OF ACAD IE. 1 39 

Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw 

river. 
And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes 

of St. Lawrence, 
Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the 

Mission. 
When over weary ways, by long and perilous 

marches, 
She had attained at length the depths of the 

Michigan forests. 
Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen 

to ruin ! 



Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in 

seasons and places 
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering 

maiden ; — 
Now in the tents of grace of the meek Moravian 

Missions, 



1 40 EVA N CELINE, 

Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of 

the army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous 

cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away 

unremembered. 
Fair was she and young, when in hope began the 

long journey ; 
Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it 

ended. 
Each succeeding year stole something away from 

her beauty, 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom 

and the shadow. 
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of 

gray o''er her forehead, 
Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly 

horizon. 
As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the 



A TALE OF AC A DIE. 141 



V. 

In that delightful land which is washed by the 

Delaware's waters, 
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the 

apostle, 
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the 

city he founded. 
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the 

emblem of beauty, 
And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees 

of the forest, 
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose 

haunts they molested. 
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline 

landed, an exile, 
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a 

country. 



1 42 E VANGELINE, 

There old Ren6 Leblanc had died ; and when he 
departed, 

Saw at his side only one of all his hundred de- 
scendants. 

Something at least there was in the friendly streets 
of the city, 

Something that spake to her heart, and made her 
no longer a stranger ; 

And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou 
of the Quakers, 

For it recalled the past, the old Acadian coun- 
try, 

Where all men were equal, and all were brothers 
and sisters. 

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed 
endeavor. 

Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, un- 
complaining, 

Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her 
thoughts and her footsteps. 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. 1 43 

As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the 

morning 
Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape 

below us, 
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and 

hamlets, 
So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the 

world far below her. 
Dark, no longer, but all illumined with love ; and 

the pathway 
Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and 

fair in the distance. 
Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was 

his image. 
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last 

she beheld him. 
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike si- 
lence and absence. 
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it 

was not. 



144 EVANGELINE, 

Over him years had no power; he was not 

changed, but transfigured ; 
He had become to her heart as one who is dead, 

and not absent ; 
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to 

others. 
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had 

taught her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous 

spices, 
Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air 

with aroma. 
Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to 

follow 
Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of 

her Saviour. 
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; 

frequenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes 

of the city. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 45 

Where distress and want concealed themselves 

from the sunlight, 
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished 

neglected. 
Night after night, when the world was asleep, as 

the watchman repeated 
Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well 

in the city. 
High at some lonely window he saw the light of 

her taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow 

through the suburbs 
Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and 

fruits for the market. 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from 

its watchings. 



Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on 
the city. 



146 EVANGELINE, 

Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks 

of wild pigeons, 
Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in 

their craws but an acorn. 
And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of 

September, 
Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a 

lake in the meadow. 
So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natural 

margin. 
Spread to a brackish lake, the silver stream of 

existence. 
Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to 

charm, the oppressor; 
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his 

anger ; — 
Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends nor 

attendants. 
Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the 

homeless. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 47 

Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of 

meadows and woodlands ; — 
Now the city surrounds it ; but still, with its gate- 
way and wicket 
Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls 

seem to echo 
Softly the words of the Lord : — " The poor ye 

always have with you." 
Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of 

Mercy. The dying 
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to 

behold there 
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead 

with splendor, 
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints 

and apostles. 
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a 

distance. 
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city 

celestial. 



148 EVANGELINE, 

Into whose shining gates ere long their spirits 
would enter. 



Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, 

deserted and silent. 
Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of 

the almshouse. 
Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers 

in the garden ; 
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest 

among them, 
That the dying once more might rejoice in their 

fragrance and beauty. 
Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, 

cooled by the east wind. 
Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from 

the belfry of Christ Church, 
While, intermingled with these, across the mead- 
ows were wafted 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 49 

Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes 

in their church at Wicaco. 
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour 

on her spirit ; 
Something within her said, — "At length thy 

trials are ended " ; 
And, with light in her looks, she entered the 

chambers of sickness. 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful 

attendants, 
Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, 

and in silence 
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and con- 
cealing their faces. 
Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of 

snow by the roadside. 
Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline 

entered, 
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she 

passed, for her presence 



150 E VANGELINE, 

Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the 
walls of a prison. 

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, 
the consoler. 

Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed 
it forever. 

Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night- 
time ; 

Vacant their places were, or filled already by 
strangers. 



Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of 
wonder, 

Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while 
a shudder 

Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flow- 
erets dropped from her fingers. 

And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom 
of the morning. 



A TALE 01' ACADIE. 151 

Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such 

terrible anguish, 
That the dying heard it, and started up from 

their pillows. 
On the pallet before her was stretched the fomi of 

an old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that 

shaded his temples ; 
But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for 

a moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its 

earlier manhood ; 
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who 

are dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of 

the fever, 
As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had be- 
sprinkled its portals, 
That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and 

pass over. 



152 E VANGELINE, 

Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit 

exhausted 
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite 

depths in the darkness. 
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking 

and sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied 

reverberations, 
Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush 

that succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and 

saint-like, 
*' Gabriel! O my beloved!" and died away into 

silence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home 

of his childhood ; 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among 

them, 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands ; and, walk- 
ing under their shadow, 




'Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt 
by his bedside." 



A TALE OF A CAD IE. I 53 

As in the days of her youth, Evangehne rose in 

his vision. 
Tears came into his eyes ; and as slowly he hfted 

his eyehds, 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt 

by his bedside. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the 

accents unuttered 
Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what 

his tongue would have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneel- 
ing beside him, 
Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her 

bosom. 
Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly 

sank into darkness. 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at 

a casement. 



154 EVAAGELJ\J:, 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and 

the sorrow, 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied 

longing. 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of 

patience ! 
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to 

her bosom. 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, 

"Father, I thank thee!" 



Still stands the forest primeval; but far away 

from its shadow, 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers 

are sleeping. 
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic 

churchyard. 
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and 

unnoticed. 



A TALE OF ACADIE. 1 55 

Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside 
them, 

Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are 
at rest and forever, 

Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer 
are busy, 

Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have 
ceased from their labors. 

Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have com- 
pleted their journey ! 



Still stands the forest primeval ; but under the 
shade of its branches 

Dwells another race, with other customs and lan- 
guage. 

Only along the shore of the mournful and misty 
Atlantic 

Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from 
exile 



156 EVANGELINE. 

Wandered back to their native land to die in its 

bosom. 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are 

still busy ; 
Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their 

kirtles of homespun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's 

story, 
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, 

neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 

wail of the forest. 



NOTES. 



NOTES 



The following detail of the facts on which the gen- 
eral incidents of the Poem of Evangeline are 
founded, is derived from Haliburtoh's History of 
Nova Scotia. 

By the Treaty of Utrecht the Province of Acadia, 
or Nova Scotia, was ceded by the French to the 
English Government. Nearly half a century, how- 
ever, was suffered to elapse before any progress was 
made towards a regular settlement of the colony. 
In the year 1749 a large body of emigrants, aided by 
a grant from the Crown, arrived in the colony, and 
immediately steps were taken by them to clear the 
ground, and lay the foundation of the town of Hali- 
fax. The French settlers, who had been located in 
the province for many years, looked with jealousy on 
these proceedings, and parties of Indians, headed by 
French commanders, were engaged to harass the 
new comers. This state of things continued for 
some years, but in the meantime the territorial rights 
of both nations were more distinctly defined, and the 
Acadians took an oath of fidelity to the British Gov- 
ernment : with a reservation, however, that thev 



l60 NOTES. 

were not to be called upon to bear arms. Hostilities 
again commencing between the French and EngHsh, 
Governor Cornwallis, by the advice of his council, 
issued a proclamation, ordering all the French in- 
habitants of the English colony to appear within 
three months, and take the oath of allegiance in the 
same unreserved and unqualified manner as British 
subjects ; and he held out promises to those who 
should think proper to accept the same, and who 
would also engage to obey all future orders of the 
Government, and render assistance to English set- 
tlers, that he would confirm them in the peaceable 
possession of all their cultivated lands, and in the 
enjoyment of their religion. He forbade, however, 
the exportation of corn, cattle, and provisions, to for- 
eign settlements. 

Pursuant to the proclamation, deputies arrived at 
Halifax from several of the French settlements, and 
were informed by the Governor that the oath of 
fidelity, formerly accepted of them, would no longer 
be received as a satisfactory guarantee for their good 
conduct ; that no exemption from bearing arms in 
time of war could be allowed ; that his Majesty 
would permit none to possess lands whose allegiance 
and assistance could not be depended upon ; and 
that commissioners would be sent to the country to 
tender them the oath expressed in the same form as 
that used by English subjects. To this they replied, 
that if they should undertake to aid the English in 



NOTES. l6l 

suppressing the Indians, the savages would pursue 
them with unrelenting hostility ; that neither thsy nor 
their property would be secure from their vengeance ; 
and that to bear arms against their countrymen was 
a condition repugnant to the feelings of human na- 
ture : they, therefore, requested to be informed, if 
they chose the alternative of quitting the country, 
whether they would be permitted to sell their lands 
and personal effects. They were told in reply, that, 
by the Treaty of Utrecht, one year was allowed to 
them for disposing of their property, which period 
having elapsed, they could now neither part with 
their effects nor remove from the province. Upon 
hearing this determination, which required uncondi- 
tional allegiance, or reduced them to the most abject 
poverty, they solicited leave to consult the Governors 
of Canada or Cape Breton as to the course they 
ought to adopt in this trying emergency, but were 
instantly threatened with the confiscation of their 
real estate and effects if they presumed to leave the 
province until they had first taken the oaths of al- 
legiance. 

No immediate steps, however, were taken to carry 
out this threat, and the English settlers still con- 
tinued to suffer great annoyance from the predatory 
attacks of the Indians, who were aided in their ex- 
cursions by the French colonists. This state of 
things lasted for some time, until at length the Eng- 
lish troops met with a series of reverses, when it was 



1 62 NOTES. 

finally determined by the Government authorities to 
effect a dislodgment of the Acadians from their 
settlements, and to disperse the entire French popu- 
lation of the province among the British colonies, 
where they could not unite in any offensive measures, 
and where they might be naturalized to the Govern- 
ment and country. 

The execution of this unusual and general sentence 
was allotted chiefly to the New England forces, the 
commander of which, from the humanity and firm- 
ness of his character, was well qualified to carry it 
into effect. It was without doubt, as he himself de- 
clared, disagreeable to his natural make and temper, 
and his principles of implicit obedience as a soldier 
were put to a severe test by this ungrateful kind of 
duty, which required an ungenerous, cunning, and 
subtle severity, calculated to render the Acadians sub- 
servient to the English interests to the latest hour. 
They were kept entirely ignorant of their destiny, 
until the moment of their captivity ; and were over- 
awed, or allured, to labor at the gathering in of 
their harvest, which was secretly allotted to the use 
of their conquerors. 

The orders from Lieutenant-Governor Laurence to 
Captain Murray, who was first on the station, with a 
plagiarism of the language, without the spirit of 
Scripture, directed that, if these people behaved 
amiss, they should be punished at his discretion ; 
and, if any attempts were made to destroy or molest 



NOTES. 163 

the troops, he should take an eye for an eye and a 
tooth for a tooth ; and, in short, life for life, from 
the nearest neighbor where the mischief should be 
performed. 

To hunt these people into captivity was a measure 
as impracticable as cruel ; and, as it was not to be 
supposed they would voluntarily surrender themselves 
as prisoners, their subjugation became a matter of 
great difficulty. At a consultation held between 
Colonel Winslow and Captain Murray, it was agreed 
that a proclamation should be issued at the different 
settlements, requiring the attendance of the people 
at the respective ports on the same day ; which 
proclamation should be so ambiguous in its nature, 
that the object for which they were to assemble 
could not be discerned ; and so peremptory in its 
terms as to ensure implicit obedience. This instru- 
ment having been drafted and approved, was dis- 
tributed according to the original plan. That which 
was addressed to the people inhabiting the country 
now comprised within the limits of King's County, 
was as follows : — 



"TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE DISTRICT OF 
GRAND PRE, MIXAS, RIVER CANARD, &c., AS 
WELL ANCIENT AS YOUNG MEN AND LADS. 

"Whereas his Excellency the Governor has in- 
structed us of his late resolution respecting the mat- 
ter proposed to the inhabitants, and has ordered us 



1 64 NOTES. 

to communicate the same in person, his Excellency 
being desirous that each of them should be fully- 
satisfied of his Majesty's intentions, which he has 
also ordered us to communicate to you, such as they 
have been given to him ; we therefore order and 
strictly enjoin, by these presents, all of the inhabi- 
tants, as well of the above-named district as of all 
the other districts, both old men and young men, as 
well as all the lads of ten years of age, to attend at 
the church at Grand Pr6, on Friday, the fifth instant, 
at three of the clock in the afternoon, that we may 
impart to them what we are ordered to communicate 
to them ; declaring that no excuse will be admitted 
on any pretence whatever, on pain of forfeiting goods 
and chattels, in default of real estate. 

"Given at Grand Pr6, 2nd September, 1755, and 
29th year of his Majesty's reign. 

"John Winslow." 

In obedience to this summons, four hundred and 
eighteen able-bodied men assembled. These being 
shut into the church (for that, too, had become an 
arsenal), Colonel Winslow placed himself with his 
officers in the centre, and addressed them thus : 

"Gentlemen, — I have received from his Excel- 
lency Governor Laurence the King's commission, 
which I have in my hand ; and by his orders you are 
convened together to manifest to you his Majesty's 
final resolution to the French inhabitants of this his 



NOTES. 165 

province of Nova Scotia, who, for almost half a cen- 
tury, have had more indulgence granted them than 
any of his subjects in any part of his dominions ; 
■what use you have made of it, you yourselves best 
know. The part of duty I am now upon, though 
necessary, is very disagreeable to my natural make 
and temper, as I know it must be grievous to you 
who are of the same species ; but it is not my busi- 
ness to animadvert, but to obey such orders as I re- 
ceive, and, therefore, without hesitation shall deliver 
you his Majesty's orders and instructions, namely, 
that your lands and tenements, cattle of all kinds, 
and live stock of all sorts, are forfeited to the Crown, 
with all other your eifects, saving your money and 
household goods, and you yourselves to be removed 
from this his province. 

" Thus it is peremptorily his Majesty^'s orders that 
the whole French inhabitants of these districts be 
removed ; and I am, through his Majesty's goodness, 
directed to allow you liberty to carry off your money 
and household goods, as many as you can, without 
discommoding the vessels you go in. I shall do 
everything in my power that all those goods be se- 
cured to you, and that you are not molested in carry- 
ing them off; also that whole families shall go in the 
same vessel, and make this remove, which I am 
sensible must give you a great deal of trouble, as 
easy as his Majesty's service will admit ; and hope 
that, in whatever part of the world you may fall, you 



1 66 NOTES. 

may be faithful subjects, a peaceful and happy peo- 
ple. I must also inform you, that it is his Majesty's 
pleasure that you remain in security, under the in- 
spection and direction of the troops that I have the 
honor to command." And he then declared them 
the King's prisoners. 

The whole number of persons collected at Grand 
Pr6 finally amounted to four hundred and eighty- 
three men, and three hundred and tiiirty-seven 
women, heads of families ; and their sons and 
daughters to five hundred and twenty-seven of the 
former, and five hundred and twenty-six of the lat- 
ter; making, in the whole, one thousand nine hun- 
dred and twenty-three souls. Their stock consisted 
of one thousand two hundred and sixty-nine oxen, 
one thousand five hundred and fifty-seven cows, five 
thousand and seven young cattle, four hundred 
and ninety-three horses, eight thousand six hun- 
dred and ninety sheep, and four thousand one hun- 
dred and ninety-seven hogs. As some of these 
wretched inhabitants escaped to the woods, all possi- 
ble measures were adopted to force them back to cap- 
tivity. The country was laid waste to prevent their 
subsistence. In the district of Minas alone there 
were destroyed two hundred and fifty-five houses, 
two hundred and seventy-six barns, one hundred and 
fifty-five out-houses, eleven mills, and one church ; 
and the friends of those who refused to surrender 
were threatened as the victims of their obstinacv. 



NOTES. 16^ 

In short, so operative were the terrors that sur- 
rounded them, that of twenty-four young men, 
d3S2rt3d from a transport, twenty-two were glad to 
return of themselves, the others being shot by sen- 
tinels ; and one of their friends, who was supposed 
to have been accessory to their escape, was carried 
on shore to behold the destruction of his house and 
effects, which were burned in his presence as a pun- 
ishment for his temerity and perfidious aid to his 
comrades. The prisoners expressed the greatest 
concern at having incurred his Majesty's displeasure, 
and in petition, addressed to Colonel Winslow, 
entreated him to detain a part of them as sureties 
for the appearance of the rest, who were desirous of 
visiting their families and consoling them in their 
distress and misfortunes. 

To comply with this request of holding a few as 
hostages for the surrender of the whole body, was 
deemed inconsistent with his instructions ; but, as 
there could be no objection to allow a small number 
of them to return to their homes, permission was 
given to them to choose ten for the district of Minas 
(Horton), and ten for the district of Canard (Corn- 
wallis) , to whom leave of absence was given for one 
day ; and on whose return a similar number were 
indulged in the same manner. They bore their con- 
finement and received their sentence with a fortitude 
and resignation altogether unexpected ; but when 
the hour of embarkation arrived, in which they were 



1 68 NOTES. 

to leave the land of their nativity for ever — to part 
with their friends and relatives, without the hope of 
ever seeing them again, and to be dispersed among 
strangers whose language, customs, and religion 
were opposed to their own — the weakness of human 
nature prevailed, and they were overpowered with 
the sense of their miseries. The preparations hav- 
ing been all completed, the loth of September was 
fixed upon as the day of departure. The prisoners 
were drawn up six deep, and the young men, one 
hundred and sixty-one in number, were ordered to 
go first on board the vessels. This they instantly 
and peremptorily refused to do, declaring they would 
not leave their parents ; but expressed a willingness 
to comply with the order, provided they were per- 
mitted to embark with their families. This request 
was immediately rejected, and the troops were 
ordered to fix bayonets and advance toward the 
prisoners, a motion which had the effect of produc- 
ing obedience on the part of the young men, who 
forth vVith commenced their march. The road from 
the chapel to the shore, just one mile in length, was 
crowded with women and children, who on their 
knees greeted them as they passed with their tears 
and their blessings ; while the prisoners advanced 
with slow and reluctant steps, weeping, x-raying, and 
singing hymns. This detachment was followed by 
the seniors, who passed through the same scene of 
sorrow and distress. In this manner was i\\2 whole 



NOTES. 169 

part of the male population of the district of Minas 
put on board the five transports stationed in the 
river Gaspereau ; each vessel being guarded by six 
non-commissioned officers, and eighty privates. As 
soon as the other vessels arrived, their wives and 
children followed, and the whole were transported 
from Nova Scotia. 

The haste with which these measures were carried 
into execution did not admit of those preparations 
for their comfort which, if unmerited by their dis- 
loyalty, were at least due in pity to the severity of 
their punishment. The hurry, confusion, and excite- 
ment connected with the embarkation had scarcely 
subsided, when the provincials were appalled at the 
work of their own hands. The novelty and pecu- 
liarity of their situation could not but force itself 
upon the attention of even the unreflecting soldiery. 
Stationed in the midst of a beautiful and fertile coun- 
try, they suddenly found themselves without a foe to 
subdue, and without a population to protect. The 
volumes of smoke which the half-expiring embers 
emitted, while they marked the site of the peasant's 
humble cottage, bore testimony to the extent of the 
work of destruction. For several successive even- 
ings the cattle assembled round the smouldering 
ruins, as if in anxious expectation of the return of 
their masters ; while all night long the faithful watch- 
dogs of the neutrals howled over the scene of deso- 



I/O NOTES. 

lation, and mourned alike the hand that had fed and 
the house that had sheltered them. 

At Annapolis and Cumberland the proclamation 
was disobeyed by the French, in consequence of an 
apprehension that they were to be imprisoned or 
sent captives to Halifax. At the former place, when 
the ships arrived to convey them from their country, 
a party of soldiers was despatched up the river to 
bring them in by force ; but they found the houses 
deserted, and learned that the people had fled to the 
woods, carrying with them their wives and children. 
Hunger, fatigue, and distress finally compelled many 
of them to return and surrender themselves as pris- 
oners, while some retired to the depths of the forest, 
where they encamped with the Indians, and others 
wandered through the woods to Chiegnecto, from 
whence they escaped to Canada. In Cumberland it 
was found necessary to resort to the most severe 
measures, and the country presented for several days 
a dreadful scene of conflagration. Two hundred 
and fifty-three houses were on fire at one time, in 
which a great quantity of wheat and flax were con- 
sumed. The miserable inhabitants beheld, from the 
adjoining woods, the destruction of their buildings 
and household goods with horror and dismay ; nor 
did tl-^ey venture to offer any resistance, until the 
wanton attempt was made to burn their chapel. 
This they considered as adding insult to injury, and 
rushing upon the party, who were too intent upon 



NOTES. 171 

the execution of their orders to obsei*ve the neces- 
sary precautions to prevent a surprise, they killed 
and wounded twenty-nine rank and file, and then 
retreated again to the cover of the forest. As the 
different Acadian settlements were too widely dis- 
persed to admit of the plan of subjugation being 
carried into effect at once, and as it had but partially 
succeeded at two of the most populous districts, only 
seven thousand of the inhabitants were collected at 
this time, and dispersed among the several British 
colonies. One thousand arrived in Massachusetts 
Bay, and became a public expense, owing, in a great 
degree, to an unchangeable antipathy to their situa- 
tion ; which prompted them to reject the usual ben- 
eficiary but humiliating establishment of paupers for 
their children. They landed in a most deplorable 
condition at Philadelphia. The government of the 
colony, to relieve itself of the charge such a com- 
pany of miserable wretches would require to maintain 
them, proposed to sell them, with their own consent ; 
but when this expedient for their support was offered 
for their consideration, the neutrals refused it with 
indignation, alleging that they were prisoners, and 
expected to be maintained as such, and not forced 
to labor. But, notwithstanding the severity of the 
treatment the Acadians had experienced, they sighed 
in exile to revisit their native land. That portion of 
them which had been sent to Georgia actually set 
out on their return, and by a circuitous, hazardous, 



172 NOTES. 

and laborious coasting voyage, had reached New 
York, and even Boston, when tliey were met by 
orders from Governor Laurence, for their detention, 
and were compelled to relinquish their design. The 
others, denying the charges which had been made 
against them, petitioned his Majesty for a legal 
hearing. 

This petition, which Haliburton gives at full length, 
sets forth, that by an agreement made between the 
British commanders in Nova Scotia and the fore- 
fathers of the petitioners, about the year 1713, the 
latter were to be permitted to remain in possession 
of their lands under an oath of fidelity to the British 
Government, with an exemption from bearing arms 
against either French or Indians, and with the allow- 
ance of the free exercise of their religion. Seven- 
teen years later this agreement was renewed on the 
part of the British authorities by the Governor of 
New England ; and again, after the expiration of 
another seventeen years, in a declaration which the 
same Governor addressed to the Acadians, in answer 
to a report at that time current, which stated it to be 
the intention of the British Government to remove 
the French inhabitants of Nova Scotia from their 
settlements in that province. This declaration was 
further confirmed by a letter written in the same year 
by the chief commander in Nova Scotia to the 
Acadian deputies ; an extract from which was given 
by the Acadians in their petition. 



NOTES. 173 

After stating the difficulties in which they found 
themselves placed by the frequent incursions made 
by the French through that portion of the province 
inhabited by the Acadian population, for the pur- 
pose of annoying the English, who were at that time 
engaged in fortifying and setthng Halifax, the peti- 
tioners proceed to reply to what appears to have 
been the main charges made against them, and on 
the presumed truth of which their forcible removal 
from the province took place. The justification they 
plead is as follows : — 

"We were likewise obliged to comply with the 
demand of the enemy, made for the provision, 
cattle, etc., upon pain of military execution, which 
we had reason to believe the Government was made 
sensible was not an act of choice on our part, but 
of necessity, as those in authority appeared to take 
in good part the representations we always made to 
them after anything of that nature had happened. 

' ' Notwithstanding the many difficulties we thus 
labored under, yet we dare appeal to the several 
Governors, both at Halifax and Annapolis-Royal, 
for testimonies of our being always ready and will- 
ing to obey their orders, and give all the assistance 
in our power, either in furnishing provisions and 
materials, or making roads, building forts, etc., 
agreeable to your Majesty's orders and our oath of 
fidelity, whensoever called upon, or required there- 
unto. 



174 NOTES. 

"It was also our constant care to give notice to 
your Majesty's commanders of the danger they have 
been from time to time exposed to by the enemy's 
troops ; and had the intelHgence we gave been always 
attended to, many lives might have been spared, 
particularly in the unhappy affair which befell Major 
Noble and his brother at Grand Pr^, when they, 
with great numbers of their men, were cut off by the 
enemy, notwithstanding the frequent advices we had 
given them of the danger they were in ; and yet we 
have been very unjustly accused as parties in that 
massacre. 

"And although we have been thus anxiously 
concerned to manifest our fidelity in these several 
respects, yet it has been falsely insinuated that it had 
been our general practice to abet and support your 
Majesty's enemies ; but we trust that your Majesty 
will not suffer suspicions and accusations to be re- 
ceived as proofs sufficient to reduce some thousands 
of innocent people, from the most happy situation 
to a state of the greatest distress and misery ! No, 
this was far from our thoughts ; we esteemed our 
situation so happy as by no means to desire a change. 
We have always desired, and again desire, that 
we may be permitted to answer our accusers in 
a judicial way. In the meantime permit us. Sir, 
here solemnly to declare that these accusations are 
utterly false and groundless so far as they concern us 
as a collective body of people. It hath been always 



NOTES. 175 

our desire to live as our fathers have done, as faith- 
ful subjects under your Majesty's royal protection, 
with an unfeigned resolution to maintain our oath of 
fidelity to the utmost of our power. Yet it cannot 
be expected, but that amongst us, as well as amongst 
other people, there have been some weak and false- 
hearted persons, susceptible of being bribed by the 
enemy so as to break the oath of fidelity. Twelve 
of these were outlawed in Governor Shirley's procla- 
mation before mentioned ; but it will be found that 
the number of such false-hearted men amongst us 
was very few, considering our situation, the number 
of inhabitants, and how we stood circumstanced in 
several respects, and it may be easily made appear 
that it was the constant care of our deputies to pre- 
vent and put a stop to such wicked conduct, when it 
came to their knowledge." 

This memorial had not the effect of procuring them 
redress, and they were left to undergo their punish- 
ment in exile, and to mingle with the population 
among whom they were distributed, with the hope 
that in time their language, predilections, and even 
the recollection of their origin, would be lost amidst 
the mass of English people with whom they were in- 
corporated. Such was the fate of these unfortunate 
and deluded people. Upon an impartial review of 
the transactions of this period, it must be admitted, 
that the transportation of the Acadians to distant 
colonies, with all the marks of ignomy and guilt 



176 NOTES. 

peculiar to convicts, was cruel ; and although such a 
conclusion could not then be drawn, yet subsequent 
events have disclosed that their expulsion was un- 
necessary. It seems totally irreconcilable with the 
idea, as at this day entertained of justice, that those 
who are not involved in the guilt shall participate in 
the punishment ; or that a whole community shall 
suffer for the misconduct of a part. It is, doubtless, 
a stain on the Provincial Councils, and we shall not 
attempt to justify that which all good men have 
agreed to condemn. But we must not lose sight of 
the offence in pity for the culprits, nor, in the in- 
dulgence of our indignation, forget that although 
nothing can be offered in defence, much may be 
produced in palliation of this transaction. Had the 
milder sentence of unrestricted exile been passed 
upon them, it was obvious that it would have had the 
effect of recruiting the strength of Canada, and that 
they would naturally have engaged in those attempts 
which the French were constantly making for the 
recovery of the province. 

Three hundred of them had been found in arms 
at one time ; and no doubt existed of others having 
advised and assisted the Indians in those numerous 
acts of hostility, which, at that time, totally in- 
terrupted the settlement of the country. When all 
were thus suspected of being disaffected, and many 
were detected in open rebellion, what confidence 
could be placed in their future loyalty? 



NOTES. 177 

It was also deemed impracticable, in those days of 
religious rancor, for the English colonists to mingle 
in the same community with Frenchmen and Catho- 
lics. Those persons who are acquainted with the 
early history of the neighboring colonies of New 
England, will easily perceive of what magnitude this 
objection must have appeared at that period. Amidst 
all these difficulties, surrounded by a vigilant and 
powerful enemy, and burdened with a population 
whose attachment was more than doubtful, what 
course could the Governor adopt, which, while it 
ensured the tranquillity of the colony, should temper 
justice with mercy to those misguided people ? With 
the knowledge we now possess of the issue of a 
contest which was then extremely uncertain, it 
might not be difficult to point to the measures which 
should have been adopted ; but we must admit, that 
the choice was attended with circumstances of 
pecuhar embarrassment. If the Acadians, therefore, 
had to lament that they were condemned unheard, 
that their accusers were also their judges, and that 
their sentence was disproportioned to their offence ; 
they had also much reason to attribute their misfor- 
tunes to the intrigues of their countrymen in Canada, 
who seduced them from their allegiance to a govern- 
ment which was disposed to extend to them its 
protection and regard, and instigated them to a 
rebellion which it was easy to foresee would end in 
their ruin. 



1 78 NOTES. 

Vast meadows stretched to the eastward. 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks 

without number. 
Dikes that the hands of the farmer had raised with 

labor incessant, 
Shnt out the tnrbulent tides. — Page 4. 

"Hunting and fishing gave way to agriculture, 
which had been established in the marshes and low- 
lands, by repelling, with dikes, the sea and rivers 
which covered these plains. At the same time these 
immense meadows were covered with numerous 
flocks." — Halibiirton. 

But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts 

of the owners ; 
There the richest were poor, and the poorest lived in 

abimdance. — Page 7. 

"Real misery was wholly unknown, and benevo- 
lence anticipated the demands of poverty. Every 
misfortune was relieved, as it were, before it could 
be felt, without ostentation on the one hand, and 
without meanness on the other. It was, in short, a 
society of brethren." — Abbe Reynal. 

Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of 
the village 



NOTES. 179 

Strongly have built them and well', and breaking the 

glebe round about them, 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for 

a twelvemonth. — Page 29. 

"As soon as a young man arrived at the proper 
age, the community built him a Iiouse, broke up the 
land about it, and supplied him with all the neces- 
saries of life for a twelvemonth. There he received 
the partner whom he had chosen, and who brought 
him her portion in flocks." — Abbe Reynal. 

Four long years in the times of the war had he lan- 
guished a captive, 

Sufferiitg much iii an old French fort as the friend 
of the Fnglish. — Page 30. 

" Rene Leblanc (our public notary) was taken 
prisoner by the Indians when actually travelling in 
your Majesty's service, his house pillaged, and him- 
self carried to the French fort, from whence he did 
not recover his liberty, but with great difficulty, 
after four years' captivity.'' — Petition of the Acadi- 
ans to the King. 

T71 the confusion. 
Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, 

too late, saw their children 
Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest 

entreaties. — Page 62. 



l80 NOTES. 

"Parents were separated from children, and 
husbands from wives, some of whom have not to 
this day met again ; and we were so crowded in the 
transport vessels, that we had not room even for all 
our bodies to lay down at once, and, consequently, 
were prevented from carrying with us proper neces- 
saries, especially for the support and comfort of the 
aged and weak, many of whom quickly ended their 
misery with their lives." — Petition of the Acadians 
to the King. 

Many, despairing., heart-broken. 
Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a 

friend nor a fireside. 
Written their history sta7ids on tablets of stone in the 

churchyards. — Page 8o. 

" We have already seen, in this province of Penn- 
sylvania, two hundred and fifty of our people, which 
is more than half the number that were landed here, 
perish through misery and various diseases." — Peti- 
tio7i of the Acadians to the King. 

There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he de- 
parted. 

Saw at his side only one of his hundred descendants. 
— Page 142. 

" Ren6 Leblanc, the notary-public before men- 
tioned, was seized, confined, and brought away among 



NOTES. l8l 

the rest of the people, and his family, consisting of 
twenty children and about o?ie hundred and fifty 
grandchildren., were scattered in different colonies, so 
that he was p2it on shore at New York, with only 
his wife and youngest children, in an infirm state of 
health, from whence he joined three more of his 
children at Philadelphia, where he died without any 
more notice being taken of him than any of us, not- 
withstanding his many years' labor and deep sufter- 
ings for your Majesty's service.''' — Petition of the 
Acadians to the Kins:. 



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